Lace & Captive Submission

The phone call shattered the afternoon quiet, a jarring intrusion into my meticulously constructed world. “What are you doing right now?” Her voice, laced with a possessive edge, sliced through the air.

“Nothing, why… did you have something in mind?” I replied, feigning nonchalance. It wasn’t entirely convincing, but maintaining the facade was crucial to the game.

“I’m lying face down in my bed, wearing blue lace lingerie. Nothing else. I want you over here, home right now! Do anything you want with me.” The words hung in the air, dripping with unspoken demands.

A wave of heat flushed through me, a primal response to her invitation. “Whoa… suddenly, ‘You want me to do what? Are you sure?’ I countered, trying to inject a dose of uncertainty.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m a member of The Horny Wives Club. Get home NOW! If that doesn’t make your mouth water…” The casual cruelty in her tone was intoxicating.

“Okay… I’m on my way, but do you really mean ‘anything’?” The doubt was a necessary layer, a shield against the raw desire that threatened to consume me.

“Any-thing-you-want…” Her response was a direct challenge, a siren’s call to my deepest urges.

The drive home felt agonizingly slow, each mile stretching the anticipation. I pulled into the driveway, my heart hammering against my ribs. The house was dark, the windows reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. I donned a dark hoodie and jeans, attempting to conceal my identity, a small act of defiance against her dominance. The scent of her perfume, lingering in the air, intensified the feeling of being trapped, yet strangely exhilarated.

The bedroom door was unlocked. Inside, she lay motionless on the bed, the blue lace lingerie clinging to her curves, hinting at the pleasures to come. Her breathing was shallow, a delicate rhythm against the silence. I crept closer, savoring the anticipation, my hand instinctively reaching for the small, curved blade hidden in my pocket.

Suddenly, I clamped my hand over her mouth, stifling a gasp. Her eyes snapped open, a desperate plea for restraint flashing within their depths. “Don’t you move!” I whispered, the words charged with both control and anticipation. Her eyes betrayed a mixture of fear and something far more potent - a desperate craving.

“Tonight,” I continued, my voice low and insistent, “I’m going to fuck you, one way or another, so you can either fight it, or you can just enjoy the ride. I’ve had my eye on you for some time, and I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to shove my cock in you! Well, sweetheart, I’m about to find out…”

She didn’t react immediately, her body frozen in a state of hesitant submission. But as I pulled out my buck knife, she shuddered, a flicker of excitement replacing the fear in her eyes. It was a sign, a tacit agreement to indulge my twisted fantasy. I ran the blade across her cheek, a calculated act of dominance, and she responded with a grimace, a silent acknowledgment of my control.

“Listen here, sweetie, you’re going to unzip my jeans, and you’re going to suck my cock until it’s nice and hard. Do you think you can do that without me having to get physical?” The question hung in the air, a test of her willingness.

“Yes… I-I think I can,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

“Well get to it then…” Her hesitation, followed by her compliant action, was a delicious affirmation of my power.

She propped herself up on her elbows, her body radiating heat. As she reached for my jeans, her fingers traced the outline of my body, igniting a fresh wave of desire. I moved behind her, my hand gliding over her hair, pulling it back and whispering, “Suck it like you mean it!” The control, the intimacy, the power – it was intoxicating.

As she began to feed on me, my own arousal intensified, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. Her suckles pulsed with pleasure, her moans escalating into desperate cries for more. The rhythm was relentless, demanding, pushing me to the very edge of my limits.

Finally, I yanked her off, my hand tightening on her hair. “Get up on your knees,” I commanded, my voice laced with authority. She obeyed instantly, kneeling before me, her body trembling with anticipation. My cock was hard as steel, a testament to the intense pleasure she had just inflicted upon me. I retrieved the knife from my pocket and inserted it between her breasts, creating a small, painful incision. The sight of the exposed flesh, the raw vulnerability, only fueled my lust. I turned the blade toward myself, running it across my own skin, creating a mirror image of her pain. The act was both a violation and a celebration, a twisted form of intimacy.

As I removed my clothes, completely naked, I watched her reaction, savoring her discomfort. The blue lace lingerie lay discarded on the bed, a testament to the power dynamic at play. She was wet, she was vulnerable, she was entirely under my control. I moved to her side, pulling her onto my lap, my hand gently caressing her waist.

“Roll over on your stomach,” I commanded, my voice a low murmur. She obeyed without hesitation. As she shifted her position, my fingers began to explore her skin, tracing the curves of her body, igniting a fire within me. I moved my cock, teasing her clit, drawing out her moans of pleasure.

“If you’re going to fuck me, just do it already and get it over with!” she shrieked, her voice laced with desperation.

I leaned forward, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready… got it?” Her frantic plea for release was met with my cold, unwavering gaze.

“Yes, sir!” she snapped back, her voice filled with a strange mix of fear and submission.

With that, I couldn't wait any longer. I plunged into her without hesitation, unleashing the pent-up desire that had consumed me. Her screams of pleasure filled the room, a symphony of raw, unbridled lust. I continued to ride her, pushing her to the brink of ecstasy, savoring every inch of her body. Her thrashing, her moans, her desperate pleas – they were all part of the game, a twisted form of domination.

Finally, I pulled back, panting and exhausted. She lay there, completely spent, her body slick with sweat. “You pervert!” she hissed, her voice filled with venom. As if sensing my amusement, she grabbed the nightstick and aimed it at me, her finger tightening on the trigger. She fired, the bullet whizzing past my ear. She then proceeded to cuff me, her grip tight and unrelenting.

Lying on my back, facing the wall, the pain of the cuffing served as a constant reminder of her dominance. She climbed onto the bed, standing above me, her gaze lingering on my naked body. She squatted down, one hand resting on my erect cock, her touch sending shivers down my spine. She lowered herself onto me, her weight a heavy presence.

As she began to grind against me, her hot breath fanning my skin, I felt an overwhelming surge of pleasure. Her body moved rhythmically, her movements both forceful and gentle, pushing me closer to the edge of oblivion. I gripped her hair, pulling her closer, intensifying the sensation. She shrieked with delight, her moans echoing through the room. The world narrowed down to the feel of her body against mine, the taste of her sweat on my lips, the intoxicating scent of her pheromones filling my senses. The game had reached its climax, and I was utterly lost in the moment.

The pleasure continued for a long time, each thrust a wave of intense sensation. Finally, I stood up, leaving her on the bed, her body limp and exhausted. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pleasure and regret. "You can sneak in and fuck me like that anytime you want," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The drive home was silent, the lingering scent of her perfume clinging to my clothes. The memory of the night, the power, the pleasure, the violation – it was all burned into my mind, a twisted masterpiece of domination and submission. As I pulled into the driveway, I knew that this was just the beginning. The game had just begun.

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Lace & Captive Submission

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